


What's Gotten Into Us?

by Acldghost



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: AU - No Red Eyed Demon, Aged Up, Gen, LGBTQ Character, They still hunt ghosts and stuff tho, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Sal Fisher, as in theyre all around 18 in this, im not sure how this will go so, uh. their parents also didn't get married in this, uhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 07:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acldghost/pseuds/Acldghost
Summary: Sal heard a few thuds and the next thing he knew he was tugged into the room, the door being shut and locked behind him. His senses were quickly bombarded by the smells of weed, sweat, and cheap fabric softener. Face now pressed against Larry’s chest, he felt the shaking sobs as he tried to balance himself. He held onto his best friend, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he cried. As the crying eventually fell to a lull, Sal pulled back. His face was sore from being pressed against his prosthetic for that long.orIn which Sal struggles with his feelings and dysphoria, and Larry has 2 braincells (one of them actually being Sal's)





	What's Gotten Into Us?

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey, just got into sally face two days ago but im love these wacky dudes  
> Feel free to leave feedback or ideas for the next chapters in the comments

Pulling off his mask for the day made him huff out a sigh of relief. The feeling of letting loose and taking off his prosthetic put him on edge, but it had to be done. He hesitantly glanced at himself in the mirror. Disgusting. Sal blocked out his thoughts as he went through the task of removing his glass eye, hazel colored today, and set it in the cleaning solution. He blinked carefully, his right eyelid fluttering around to protect what was no longer there. Another sigh fell from his mouth, this one being much sadder than the last. Sal shucked his plain gray shirt over his head and turned away from the mirror. His much loved binder was on the last stints of its life, it seemed. Stains littered the surface on both sides and holes were worn through at the seams. He unceremoniously pulled it off as well and threw it with the rest of his dirty laundry.  


After that he shed his pants and boxer briefs. He idly picked at the acne scabs covering his shoulders as he waited for the shower to hit the perfect temperature. Due to the age of the apartments, it was a task. Too hot and risk having his scars peel, split open, and bleed. Too cold and risk getting sick. He didn’t really care for either, but preferred getting sick over slathering his face in a prescribed ointment that reeked of mint. Sal stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed. His depth perception had never been the best after the accident, but he was used to it by now. He kept his eye closed as he grabbed his shampoo and lathered his hair with it. The skin crawling feeling of what came next sickened him. He set down the bottle carefully before grabbing the body wash that was next to it. He squeezed it onto a wash rag. Setting it back in its place, he quickly washed his body. The scrape of the tattered rag felt like insects crawling over his chest, down past his ribs to… He finished up without a second thought. Washing the shampoo out and turning the water off, the cold air hit him. Goosebumps spread quickly as he stepped out of the tub and grabbed his towel to dry off.  


Sal went through his regular night routine after that. Put on pajamas, brush teeth, moisturize face and clean his prosthetic. His dad was already in bed by now, so he didn’t bother putting it back on as he shuffled to his room. Flopping onto his bed, he would have passed out if not for the buzz that resounded against the wood of his bedside shelf. He debated on whether he should just wait to answer the text in the morning, but found that rather than a text, the constant buzzing was a call. He answered without checking the caller, already having a guess.  


“What’s up Larry?”  
Sal heard a shaky sigh on the other end.  


“Larry?-”  


“I...Sal. Can you come down?”  


“Yea. See you in a bit”  


As promised, Sal was down within five minutes. He had been given a key back within their first year of friendship, so getting into the apartment itself wasn’t hard. He knocked hesitantly on Larry’s door. Sal heard a few thuds and the next thing he knew he was tugged into the room, the door being shut and locked behind him. His senses were quickly bombarded by the smells of weed, sweat, and cheap fabric softener. Face now pressed against Larry’s chest, he felt the shaking sobs as he tried to balance himself. He held onto his best friend, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he cried. As the crying eventually fell to a lull, Sal pulled back. His face was sore from being pressed against his prosthetic for that long. He slowly lead Larry to sit down on his disheveled bed. A singular lamp was balanced precariously on his desk. The bulb flickered occasionally, but it worked. Sal sat beside his friend, facing away from him. Larry hated whenever people saw him crying.  


“So…”  
Silence.  


“Mind telling me what’s up, Larry Face?”  
He hoped the nickname he gave would cheer him up like usual. It didn’t.  


“I… I got a letter. From dad,”  


Sal couldn’t help but look at him in shock, though Larry probably couldn’t tell. He was looking at the opposite wall, face red and blotchy from crying. Larry glanced down at him and Sal almost broke his neck at the speed he used to look away. His friend laughed dryly.  


“I know, right? After all these years… I could hardly believe it myself. The only way I knew it wasn’t some asshat playing a sick joke was by comparing it to other things he had written,”  
He breathed in and out slowly, trying to gain his composure the best he could.  


“He wrote- He...Just-”  
Larry broke down again.  


Sal felt his heart ache. He always hated seeing the people he cared about being upset. He gently pushed Larry to rest in his lap, scratching at his scalp gently to calm him. His slightly greasy hair stuck to Sal’s fingers as it tangled and he settled down.  


“It’s on my dresser. You can read it if ya want.”  


Larry sat up and stretched before laying back against his pillows. He sniffled and looked at the wall with a numbness. Sal eyed him cautiously before getting up to read the note. The letter was fairly short, not even taking up a full side of the college ruled notebook paper.  


“That is such horse shit. If he’s not going to put effort in, then he shouldn’t have written at all.”  
Larry looked up with some hurt and shock.  


“Sal! He’s still my dad… and he said he still cares about me,”  
Sighing, Sal apologized.  


“Y-Yeah… You’re right. It just seems like he didn’t really try, if you get what I’m saying.”  
His friend nods absently.  


“I get it. That’s kind of why I called you down… to get some rational thought before I did anything too wild.”  
Sal shrugged and walked back over to plop down onto the bed next to Larry. They sat in silence for awhile, Sal eventually about to pass out while leaning against Larry.  


“Hey, Sally Face?”  


“Yes, Larry Face?”  


“You’re my best friend. I love ya…”  


Sal was silent, his face burning behind his mask. No matter how many times Larry said it, he got embarrassed.  
“I love you too.”


End file.
